


Stay Calm

by stephanericher



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 22:48:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7820257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you going to fall down this time?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay Calm

Surprisingly, chanting a mantra in his head of stay-calm-stay-calm is not working in this situation. It usually does (if he even needs it at all); it usually lets him focus on being Cool Smooth Suave Lance, ready to sweep someone off their feet, but not now. But he’s never tried to be like this with Shiro, and Shiro’s on a whole new level that’s clearly several above Lance, and yeah, he’s the one who’d asked Lance out in the first place but even with the amount of times Hunk had said “of course he likes you” in that exasperated tone while Lance had been trying to get ready for this it hadn’t help. It’s still not helping.

It’s not just that Shiro is cool, or even really cool. He’s beyond cool; he’s superseded that conversation; he’s beyond cool in the same way they’re beyond their home solar system, except Lance had never known Shiro or even of him before he’d gone through that wormhole and reached that status. He’d been a living legend at the academy, even when he was still there; reporters and astronaut teams had flocked around him trying to recruit him and he’d entertained them all and still had time to ace all of his classes. And he can fly; he could always fly; it’s like he and his ship become a bird together, head and body (and not just any bird, a majestic one like an eagle or a condor or a falcon, when the most Lance has ever managed is an injured pigeon). And then he’d gone off on the Kerberos mission, straight from school; his picture had been in every magazine and he’d become the impossibly high standard that all the teachers held them too and despite that, he’d been too beyond cool to hate or resent.

And then Lance had actually met him and he’s even better in person, caring and smart and patient and self-aware and really, really attractive (especially when he smiles) and he’s seen Lance do stupid thing after stupid thing, fall and embarrass himself and screw up and just stare speechless at him, and he’d still asked him on a date and hadn’t taken it back when Lance had barely sputtered out an answer, and he still hasn’t walked away tonight so far.

They’re on a planet with a temperate area, cool woods and rocky creeks and crumpled mountains; almost like parts of earth (but a little off, as if someone had described earth in vague terms to someone else who’d never been and was trying to create a reproduction). It’s not unpleasant (especially not the way the shadows of the damp sunlight through the canopy of leaves play on Shiro’s face) but they can’t really sit and talk or do something romantic like watch the stars (the atmosphere’s too hazy even if they find a clearing) or even really sit together. Maybe on the banks of a creek if the rocks don’t look too sharp? Lance’s gaze flicks left, right, trying to see through the trees.

“What is it?” says Shiro, tensing.

“Nothing,” says Lance. “Just looking around.”

“It’s still forest.”

“I know,” says Lance.

(Does Shiro think he’s an idiot? Forgetful? Trying to run away from him?) Again, he tells himself to stay calm and there, up ahead, is a thinning of the dirt and leaves of the forest floor and a rocky shore, water spilling over and back, washing leaves into its ambient flow. He tugs on Shiro’s hand.

“Want to take a look?”

“Sure.”

Shiro drops his hand; Lance tries hard not to frown. Does Shiro not want to touch him? Are his palms sweaty? How can he turn this around? At least Shiro’s still following him; maybe he can salvage this somehow. Maybe if he throws a stone he can make it skip four times instead of two or three (maybe stones work differently here); maybe that will be impressive or at least turn Shiro’s thoughts in the positive direction. He leans down to pick up a stone from the bank, but all of a sudden his feet slip on the slick wet stones and he falls; he’s about to crack his head on a rock (what an ending, what a date) when Shiro’s arm reaches out and catches him. Lance blinks.

“You okay?”

And yeah, he is, but this is way embarrassing, way more than not being able to think of a conversation or an activity. Way to go, Lance.

“Um,” he says. “Yeah. I think”

His face is heating up; he can’t even properly enjoy the sensation of Shiro holding him because he’s so fucking embarrassed, but at least Shiro’s going to put him out of his misery and take him back to the castle or something, get him looked at or whatever (even though he’s physically fine) and then they won’t have to see each other until tomorrow.

But then Shiro’s lifting him up and putting his feet on solid, dry ground; his arms are still there and not letting go and Lance blinks at him again. Shiro’s face is so close, and this might mean he wants to do something else; maybe Shiro had just been waiting to play the romantic prince this whole time?

“This is a good spot to sit,” says Shiro.

Maybe not. But the date’s not done yet.

Lance lowers himself to the ground and Shiro follows; he doesn’t put his arm around Lance’s shoulders or touch him at all again and maybe this is Lance’s move, but should he? Again, he tells himself to stay calm; he looks at Shiro out of the corner of his eye and Shiro’s smiling a little. Maybe this is good. Maybe Shiro just wants to sit still and enjoy nature.

It is kind of pretty here, the red and green and brown of the leaves washing down the stream, the smooth rocks on the bank covered in gold lichens, the trees bending over in acquiescence to gravity, their leaves touching the water. Some of them reach to the sky, to grab those bits and pieces of sunlight that they can. And the next time Lance looks over at Shiro, he’s already looking back, and then his cheeks flush and he might not have been expecting Lance to look (not that Lance was expecting him to, because his heartbeat is accelerating like someone’s stomped on the gas pedal).

They can only stay like this for so long, though; Lance’s muscles are starting to complain from sitting like this and the sun is sinking away and Lance has no plans to stay here after dark (even if it is with Shiro). He raises himself off the ground, shaking out his shoulders and cracking his knuckles. Then he holds out his hand to help Shiro up; Shiro cocks an eyebrow.

“Are you going to fall down this time?”

His tone is gentle, and Lance shrugs.

“Well, if you don’t want my help that’s fine, but I’m just trying to be a gentleman.”

“Well,” says Shiro. “I guess I can’t refuse a courtesy like that.”

He grasps Lance’s arm, and whoa. He’s heavy. (Of course he is; Lance isn’t stupid; he knows that all that muscles on his broader frame and the extra few inches of height he has make Shiro no featherweight, but he wasn’t expecting this.) And he tries his best to ignore how much Shiro’s steadying himself from the rocks but does make a mental note to work out a little more (or a lot more—not as much as that fucking gym rat Keith, but a lot more, okay).

Shiro’s on his feet but his hand is still clasping Lance’s arm (Lance isn’t much inclined to let go of Shiro’s arm, either) and he’s close. He’s close enough for Lance to feel the warmth of his body, to see his face up close and the way the edges of the scar blend into his skin, the curve of the smile still clinging to his mouth. There’s not much space to cross, and they’re both starting to lean in but Lance is pretty sure he’s the one who ultimately kisses Shiro.

Shiro’s mouth is soft; he tastes like spearmint and some kind of unidentifiable spice, and Lance doesn’t want to spend time identifying it right now because he’s kissing Shiro and he’d really rather not think about anything other than that very important fact. But wait, he’s kissing Shiro and he needs to do something with his free hand—he brings it to the small of Shiro’s back (he’s pretty sure that’s what you’re supposed to do) and Shiro makes a quiet sort of sound. Lance grins into the kiss (hell yeah, he’s being pretty smooth even with Shiro) and then, a few moments later, Shiro breaks the kiss.

Lance lets his arms fall to his sides (is that the right thing to do?) and Shiro’s mouth quirks up as if he’s going to laugh.

“Do I have something on my face?”

Then he does laugh (but again his eyes are softer than the sand dunes right before the beach back home).

“You’re very cute.”

Cute? Not devilishly handsome, devastatingly hot, swoon-worthily gorgeous? Cute? (Not even adorable? He might settle for that.)

“Take it as a compliment,” says Shiro.

And then he leans in and presses his lips to Lance’s again, and, well. If Shiro’s going to kiss him every time he tells him he’s cute, Lance might just find a way to put up with it.


End file.
